>>
>>Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run
>>over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is
>>cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp. "What happened to you?"
>>asks Sean, the bartender. "Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.
>>"That little shit, O'Conner," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he
>>must have had something in his hand." "That he did," says Paddy, "a
>>shovel is what he had and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."
>>"Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have
>>something in your hand?" "That I did," said Paddy ... "Mrs. O'Conner's
>>breast and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."
>>

>>Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives
>>a t her door .&nbs p; "Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin'to tell
>>ya". "Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But where's
>>my husband?" "That's what I'm here to be telling ya, Brenda." There was
>>an accident down at the Guinness brewery..." "Oh, God no!" cries
>>Brenda. "Please don't tell me." "I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is
>>dead and gone. I'm sorry." Finally, she looked up at Tim. "How did it
>>happen, Tim?" "It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness
>>Stout and drowned." "Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim.
>>Did he at least go quickly?" "Well, Brenda .. no. In fact, he got out
>>three times to pee."

>>
>>A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, sits
>>down but says nothing. The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention
>>but the drunk continues to sit there. Finally, the Priest pounds three
>>times on the wall. The drunk mumbles, "Ain't no use knockin, there's no
>>paper on this side either."
>>